The Thanksgiving Episode
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Jenny and the Colonel celebrate Thanksgiving ... and the Colonel has a surprise for his daughter. (Hint: it's Gibbs.) ACD 'verse! and, it's rated M.


_a/n: so, here's a little special. written kind of sit-com style (hence the episode title) but i guess acd is technically kind of like that a lot. so, for context: jenny is a junior (first semester) in college, and at this point gibbs is deployed in iraq._

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><p><em><span>The Thanksgiving Episode<span>_

_November 24, 2010_

* * *

><p>Two and a half hours was really not much of a drive, compared to what some other students were suffering – Jennifer Shepard's roommates between them were traveling about fourteen hundred miles: Whitney was en route to Texas, and McKenzie was taking a bus to Buffalo.<p>

She was grateful, at least, that she could enjoy some relaxed alone time with a carefully crafted road trip playlist and a steaming cup of coffee on her late-night drive home.

It was Wednesday, the night before Thanksgiving, and her plans for the holiday had been solidified in what could only be defined as 'last minute.' Back in October, she had toyed with the idea of going to visit Gibbs' father in Stillwater, instead of her own back in D.C.; Gibbs had been in Iraq since September, and she felt Jackson might want some extra support during the holiday.

Her father had been wary of the idea – annoyed with it even – but as the time got closer, he'd gotten progressively more insistent that she come home. It was a minor point of contention; she loved her father and she absolutely wanted to see him, but she and Gibbs had all but decided they were, more or less, in it for the long haul, and she thought it important to cultivate a close relationship with her boyfriend's father – especially when Gibbs was deployed in a highly volatile war zone.

It was genuinely a tough decision to make, but since she hadn't ever promised Jackson she'd come see him, she had capitulated to the Colonel's authoritative '_it's important that I see you, Jennifer'_ – and off she'd gone this evening, taking the familiar route back to Georgetown. She had chosen to stay at school later than everyone else in order to attend a party given by her Farsi professor, therefore beating the traffic and taking advantage of the opportunity to make some connections.

Now, as she neared the small, narrow streets of home – and saw the chilly, slippery threat of ice collecting on the ground, she half-wished she'd at least taken time to change out of her nice clothes into something more comfortable. She checked the clock on the dash as she and the Mustang coasted down the main street before she turned onto hers – her father hadn't crossed any major lines into elderly yet, so arriving at ten p.m. wasn't likely to wake him up.

She smirked a little, half-convinced Noemi would be there – outside of work hours, mysteriously, but with some excuse concocted by Jasper.

Jenny canvassed the street lazily, wondering if she'd have to park near the mailbox or if there was room in the drive. There was only her father's old BMW, and it had been pulled up and moved so she could take her usual place. She did so, and as she turned off the car, she breathed out in relief – despite the arguments they'd had about where she'd spend Thanksgiving, it _was_ good to be home.

She grabbed her stuff out of the car – she was bringing a lot of summer items home to make more room in her dorm – and hoisted everything onto her shoulders, getting her bearings and then marching up to the front door. She frowned, having forgot to get her key ready first – but she needn't have worried; the door opened, and her father grinned at her.

She laughed a little, raising her eyebrows.

"What, were you peeking out the window every five minutes?" she asked breathlessly, as he moved out of the way and let her in.

"Nah, kept an eye on the stained glass," he retorted, pointing. "Light from headlights reflects into the study."

She shook her head, kicking the wooden door shut.

"Dad, I was home like a month ago for your birthday," she said indulgently. "And I'm a junior – aren't you used to the college thing yet?"

He shrugged, and folded his arms, giving her a protective, fatherly look up and down. Somehow, her being in college got _worse_ every year – not that he told her he felt that way. That wasn't the reason for his eagerness for her arrival this year, though; he had a trick up his sleeve, and she was none the wiser – and as an upper level Army Colonel with a specialty in intrigue and a love of making his daughter happy, he'd been counting down the minutes until she pulled into that drive.

"You look nice," he remarked.

She smiled, and shrugged one shoulder, allowing a bag to tumble to the ground. She tilted her head, tossing her head back a little and affecting a sort of pose. She rolled her eyes a little.

"I am wrinkled and I smell like the McDonald's I had while I was on I-95," she snorted.

Her father grinned.

She let another bag fall off of her shoulders and then gestured at them grandly, but before she could make a demanding, joking comment, her father tilted his head.

"You heard from Gibbs?"

She looked a little taken aback.

"God, Dad, don't bother with small talk," she muttered under her breath. She shrugged. "Yeah, three weeks ago, or so – but, you know, he warned me they might have unstable communications for a while," she switched gears, giving him a look. "Can you let me breathe before we talk about him? It never really gets easy, you know," she reprimanded pointedly.

The Colonel nodded, he shrugged.

"Yeah, he mentioned he hasn't bee talkin' to you as much," he said casually.

"Mm-hmm, Dad, are you gonna offer to help me with these," she gestured, and then gave him a funny look. "Wait, he mentioned? When are _you_ talking to Jethro?" she asked.

She pursed her lips, and then she saw movement from behind her father – a hint of that unmistakable Marine ACU material, the flash of a shiny black dog tag, and her father was in the middle of saying –

"I figure if he was here, he'd help with your bags – "

-when she vaulted over the duffels at her feet and nearly plowed the Colonel over.

"_Jethro_!"

To his credit, the young man didn't even stumble when she launched herself at him. The Colonel turned, unable to hide the self-impressed smirk on his face, and Gibbs was grinning a mile wide, his arms around that girl impossibly tightly.

"_What_ are you _doing_ here, what are you _doing_ here?" she demanded rapidly, her face buried in his chest, half-sobbing with surprise and delight.

Gibbs turned his head and kissed the side of her head, closing his eyes a moment. He opened them, and looked straight at the Colonel.

Jasper mustered a glare, and folded his arms.

"You were suppose to wait for the signal," he growled.

Gibbs swallowed, and shrugged.

"Couldn't," he said hoarsely, distracted by Jenny pulling away and grasping his shoulders, yanking on his uniform hard and letting out a high-pitched squeal.

"I can't – I don't – signal?" she broke off. She whirled around, glancing between them. "What signal? How long have you known – did you two plan this? Whose idea – how long have you – "

Her father laughed at her.

"Signal's the last thing that matters," he pointed out.

"Somethin' about a turkey and a wishbone," Gibbs snorted, shaking his head.

He took Jenny's hand and almost demanded she turn her attention back to him. She did, and reached up and touched his neck reverently, shaking her head back and forth, still in disbelief.

"But," she said. "But, you couldn't even get furlough – you didn't even think you'd get a few days at _Christmas_, how – "

Gibbs shrugged, and glanced over her shoulder at the Colonel. Jasper inclined his head, and gave a small shrug. Gibbs actually had managed to secure a Christmas furlough, but he'd given it up to a guy who's wife was due to have a baby then – when he'd told the Colonel, Jasper had simply asked a friend over at Marine operations at the Pentagon if that merited some sort of commendation reward for Gibbs.

Hence – he'd been able to fly back to the States Wednesday afternoon as long as he was back in Iraq Saturday morning.

Jenny leaned forward and kissed Gibbs, practically gluing her lips to his, and the Colonel's face immediately darkened. He glared for a moment, and when the kiss didn't end and Gibbs, apparently distracted enough to forget himself, moved his hands down her hips, Jasper stepped forward abruptly and pointedly plucked one of those hands away.

He cleared his throat loudly.

"Why don't you help her take her bags upstairs, Staff Sergeant Kiss-Ass," he suggested, putting an end to the public display of affection.

Gibbs grinned; Jenny flushed. She smacked her father's hand.

"Chill, Dad, I haven't seen him since September, that's like … as dry as the Iraqi desert."

"Jesus Christ, just go get settled in," griped the Colonel, putting a hand to his head.

Jenny grinned at Gibbs and turned, gathering her bags. He tried to take one, but she smacked him, shaking her head. He still tried to fight her to help, and she took off, laughing a little.

"No," she giggled. "No – Jethro, no, you carry stuff around Camp Baharia all day, _stop_ I can carry it–!"

Gibbs stormed after her, still trying to take her stuff, and shot a look and a salute over his shoulder.

"Appreciate you recognizing the promotion, sir," he added, brazenly chasing the Colonel's daughter up the stairs.

Jasper scowled – _Corporal_ Kiss-Ass was a hell of a lot less of a mouthful. Still, the boy's achievement's merited respect – and the Colonel acknowledged that.

"Jennifer, dinner's ready in ten minutes," Japer shouted up the stairs. He took half a breath, and then rolled his eyes, well aware his next order was going to be ignored – but he had to give it anyway - "And _don't_ shut that door!"

The door to Jennifer's bedroom slammed immediately.

* * *

><p>She turned the lock seconds after the slammed the door and dropped her bags, lunging forward and hugging him again. She buried her face in his neck, taking deep, steadying breaths.<p>

"Jethro," she sighed, murmuring contently. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, leaning back a little. "I miss you," she said, and pressed her lips to his. She tugged on his short hair a little. "I miss you so much," she repeated.

He nodded, hardly giving her time to breathe, kissing her again. She ran her hands all over him, as if trying to convince herself he was real, tangible, and he pulled his head back, his eyes running over her.

"You drove in this?" he asked hoarsely – snugly fitting sweater, preppy knee-high socks, plaid skirt, sleek heels – she looked half-professional, half-schoolgirl centerfold dream, and he didn't know what to do with himself.

She nodded, stepping backwards, pulling him with her.

"I left straight from a dinner party," she said quietly, a little breathless. "Is it too much? I wasn't going straight for Cher Horowitz, but the effect – "

"Who? What?"

"Jethro, you're _Clueless."_

"Huh?" he muttered, both sincerely confused and mocking her; he pressed his lips to hers, still following her lead as she stumbled back over her duffel bag and purse and backpack.

"The outfit, Jethro, you like it?"

"Jen," he mumbled into her lips, "my eyes are the only thing I don't want to take off of you," he growled.

She laughed, tilting her head back and flushing, somewhere between amused and flattered – and just completely taken aback by the _line_ – but what a line.

Her back hit the edge of her vanity table, and she leaned back a moment, knuckles turning white. She bit her lip, looking at him a moment, and then she hopped up on the edge of the vanity, knocking over some half-empty perfume bottles. She pulled him forward, one yellow high heel slipping off and hitting the floor as she curved her legs around his.

She put her hands on his hips, and then up on his neck, pulling his lips down to hers.

"Mmm," she murmured huskily. "'M so glad I went with socks instead of tights," she whispered, pulling him closer with her legs.

"Jen –" he started, quickly distracted by her tongue in his mouth, her hands first running soothingly and gently over his neck, then roughly down his chest to the sand coloured belt of his ACUs.

His hands found her knees and he gripped tightly; he turned his head down a little, catching his breath a moment.

Her fingers moved deftly at his hips, snapping the belt through his loops. She lifted her knees a little, and then leaned back, leaving his pants unzipped and unbuttoned. She dragged her skirt up her thighs, hooking her thumb under her panties. He watched her, his heart speeding up, and then he blinked.

He looked up.

"Jen," he laughed in disbelief. "You're not thinkin' – "

"I'm not taking my panties off for my health, Jethro," she hissed – and then he had to narrowly avoid getting pierced in the gut with her remaining heel as she slipped her cotton lingerie off and dropped it to the floor.

His eyes followed them, and he opened his mouth in shock. He shook his head.

She shifted forward, moving her legs, her knees pressing into his ribs for a moment and then sliding down around his hips, wrapping around him again. He was drawn back into a kiss and he groaned, his head spinning – weeks and weeks in the desert, weeks since he'd last touched her – he didn't even have pictures of her, not the playmate kind – he was almost persuaded to forget why he was even objecting –

His hands moved over her shoulders, down to her breasts, and he pushed her skirt up further, pulling her against him. She pushed at his pants, her fingers tracing his hipbones, hands moving under the material of his boxers –

"Jen," he growled, when she touched him confidently, insistently – and he pulled back again, forehead resting against hers heavily. "Your Dad's downstairs – "

"Yeah, I saw him," she muttered, her lips catching the corner of his mouth.

She trailed kisses down to his neck and then followed the path back up with her tongue.

"Oh, god, Jethro," she murmured. She took a deep breath. "I want you so bad."

He was hard-pressed to argue with that – and he couldn't exactly claim he didn't feel the same; if anything, he wanted her more; not just physically – but he wanted the comfort of her, familiar and supportive and just there, all around him.

He swallowed hard.

"Can't, Jen, c'mon, we can wait – "

"Wait? He's not going to let us sleep in the same room," she hissed, shrugging. "I can't wait," she breathed, her lips catching his again, her eyes glinting with a seductive pout.

"If he hears – "

"Be quiet, Jethro, I can be quiet," she caught her breath, hiking one of her legs up again, her hand still running over him firmly, irresistibly. "Fast, too, don't worry about me," she murmured.

He braced one hand on the vanity, moving closer to her, pushing her hand away. She shifted her body towards him, pulling her hand back between her legs, gathering her skirt in her hands, moving it out of the way.

"Least let me take you to bed," he mumbled, his lips brushing her hear.

She shook her head.

"Waste of time," she breathed. She closed her eyes. "Fuck me right here."

He gripped her knee, ran his hand up her thigh, and shifted, moving his other hand around behind her, splaying his palm over her lower back. He moved his fingers over her for a moment, giving up the protest, his mind left almost completely blank by how good she smelled and felt –

"You still on the birth control?" he muttered.

She nodded rapidly.

"Jethro," she coaxed, her voice going up in octave, though quietly.

He nodded and thrust into her. She leaned forward and moaned softly, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly and pressing her head against his. He grit his teeth and thrust again; she gasped and took a deep breath.

"Mmm, God," she murmured hoarsely. She licked her lips, kissing his cheek. "I love you," she muttered quietly. "So responsible," she teased wryly.

He closed his eyes, bowing his head, a little too distracted to carry on a conversation. He pulled her closer, still digging his fingers into her thigh, his hand steadying her.

"Cause I remembered the birth control?" he asked.

She nodded, he started moving more rhythmically, and she gasped, biting her lip. She sucked in her breath, shaking her fit a little – she kicked off her heel and then dug her heel into his back, biting harder on her lip.

She pressed her lips to his temple, pressing close to him hard; she felt like she couldn't breathe because if she opened her mouth, she was going to scream, and that wouldn't do them any favors.

Something fell off the vanity, he slammed his knee into it, and the mirror banged the wall dully. She gasped, laughed.

"Shh," she murmured, her lips against his ear. "_Shh – _oh, oh," she sucked in her breath. "Little easier, Jethro – "

He eased off, his breathing hard.

"You okay?" he managed.

"It's been a few months…I used to keep lube in one of these drawers – "

"Better have been since September," he said dryly. He lowered his head and groaned. He pressed his teeth into her shoulder, and then shook his head. "Want the – "

"No, keep going," she coaxed, licking her lips. "Faster just," she swallowed, stumbling over her words, and glanced at her door, a little nervous suddenly. "You get off, Jethro, take care of me later –"

"Jen – "

"You know I still like it even if I don't – "

He nodded, and lifted his head. He kissed her, shutting her up, doing as she asked. She dug her nails into his shoulders, tightly, pulling him closer, and he though – he thought he was going to get here there, but she shifted at the wrong moment – and probably on purpose – and she had him; he thrust into her hard, and held her against him.

She pressed her lips to his neck, breathing lightly, but shallowly.

"I love you," she muttered again, her voice almost inaudible. She shook her head, licking her lips. "I'm so glad you're here."

He just rested his head on her shoulder, coming down slow from the high. He eased his grip on her thigh and took a couple of deep breaths. He looked up and grinned at her, running his hand up her back to her neck. He ran his thumb over the nape of her neck and kissed her again, more reverently.

She smiled at him, nudged him with her nose, and then patted his chest pointedly. She nodded her head, and he pulled out, running his hand through her hair as he stepped back. She winced and pushed her hair back, brushing her skirt back over her legs.

She smoothed her skirt out. She nodded at one of her bags.

"The pocket of that one – hand me a clean pair of panties?" she requested simply – there wasn't much that phased her around Gibbs anymore; they'd been together long enough at this point.

He nodded, and went about obliging her. She hopped off the vanity and sat down on the stool gingerly, opening the bottom drawer and taking out a box of tissues. She opened it, and subtly dealt with the messier aspects of intimacy – and murmured thanks to her boyfriend as he handed her a pair of panties.

He sat down on the vanity where she'd been moments before and watched her throw away the tissue and slip on the new pair. She turned towards the mirror and fussed over her hair – it was distinctly mussed; well, maybe her father wouldn't really notice.

She ran a thumb over her lips – they didn't look _too_ swollen, though her lipstick was obviously faded. She looked down to adjust her blouse and smooth out wrinkled and then she leaned forward and looked up at him, catching his eye through her lashes.

"How's that for a hero's welcome?"

"Wasn't expectin' it," he said with a sort.

He ran a hand through his hair – he really hadn't; he'd obviously been excited to see her, and he'd definitely looked forward to sleeping with her, but to say he was startled she'd wanted it immediately – and when her father was right downstairs about to call them for supper any moment – was an understatement.

It was kind of … exhilarating.

She flushed prettily, and he grinned at her, a smug smile on his face.

"Don't look too impressed with yourself," she warned, laughing.

He shook his head, and she stood up. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her throat.

"I miss you, too," he said abruptly, remembering to tell her. He nodded, squeezing her tightly. "Readin' your letters helps me sleep," he added huskily.

"You don't write back."

"Yeah," he agreed, shrugging. "But I read 'em. Every day."

She smiled sympathetically, and kissed his cheek.

"Jethro?"

"Mmm?"

"Let's go downstairs before he calls – throw off his suspicion," she murmured.

He growled an agreement, and got up, letting her lace her fingers into his and lead him towards the door. She opened it, right as the Colonel yelled –

"You two comin' to dinner, or you choke on each other's tonsils?"

Jenny giggled, shooting Gibbs a wry look, and ushered him down the stairs – noticing in the nick of time that her lipstick was smeared on his neck, and she licked her hand, hopped forward, and wiped it off.

Gibbs caught her hand and pulled her in front of him, brushing her skirt straighter in the back – and followed her into the kitchen, where he could feel her father's annoyed, wary glare on him, but he was too smug to even remotely feign innocence.

* * *

><p>The Colonel understood that his daughter had desperately, worriedly missed her boyfriend while he was deployed – and would continue to do so – and he let a lot of touchy-feely affection slide, but he drew the line when Jenny thought she was apparently going to sit on Gibbs' lap during dinner.<p>

"What the hell do you think you're – "

She laughed brightly.

"I was wondering how far your leniency would go," she snickered, sitting pointedly in the chair next to him.

Gibbs put one arm lazily around her shoulders, and the Colonel rolled his eyes, seated comfortably on the other side of the table. His critical glare lingered a little on the red spot on Gibbs' neck – and how messed up his little daughter's hair looked – but he pushed any red alert thoughts away and cleared his throat.

"You see why I had to get you home, Little J?" he asked gruffly. "Wouldn't have done much for my plan if you'd gone off to Stillwater."

She nodded, tossing her hair back and digging into her food. Gibbs' fingers twirled into her red curls, and he wolfed down his own dinner, obviously mesmerized by a home cooked meal.

"Beats the hell out of MREs, don't it?" Jasper said, laughing at Gibbs' enthusiasm.

Gibbs mumbled something, and Jenny laughed, leaning forward on her elbow.

"I try to feel bad that you have influence," she said, swallowing heard. "It's hard to feel guilty, though, you know … I'm a little selfish." She did struggle sometimes, with the fact that her father occasionally told her things to reassure her or pulled strings – but then, it was hard to tell him to stop. "But you really should – maybe – "

He just shrugged.

"Look, Jennifer, I could stop, but then I'd have to watch you stress yourself out thinkin' he's been tied up by insurgents in some cave. 'M a strong man, but I can't take seein' you go through that."

She smiled a little, her eyes soft. She mouthed a 'thank you' – and lowered her head, taking a moment to compose herself. She suddenly felt very overwhelmed – the shock, the excitement had worn off, and she was…well, fittingly thankful.

She looked back up, and glanced at Gibbs, and then at her father.

"Daddy," she said, a little hesitantly. Then she looked at Gibbs. "You are going to see Jackson, aren't you?" she asked cautiously.

Gibbs looked at her guardedly, and she bit her lip, swallowing, looking back at her father.

"Daddy, I'd feel – I mean how would you feel if I went to see Jackson and Gibbs and not you, if I got such short leave – "

Her father held up his hand, nodding. He understood her point – and he was ahead of her.

"I wasn't gonna let this idiot get away with avoidin' his father," he said sternly. "He had the idea to drive up there Friday mornin', then drive back here and catch his flight out of Dulles."

Jenny shrugged; that sounded like Gibbs.

"It's not that bad of a drive – I'll go with you, Jethro –"

"Figured you'd say that, want to spend time with him," the Colonel said simply.

Jenny arched a brow at him. Gibbs rubbed her shoulder.

"Dad's comin' up here," he said gruffly, a little warily. He cleared his throat. "Tomorrow, uh, for Thanksgivin' dinner."

Jenny opened her mouth, startled again – this holiday was beginning to be as unexpected and stressful as one of her linguistic exams – although in this case, the stress was more positive than horrible.

She tilted her head at the Colonel, arching a brow.

"You invited my boyfriend's father to…Thanksgiving dinner?" she ventured, her voice going up skeptically.

"They got to negotiate your bride price," Gibbs said, his mouth full.

Jenny elbowed him hard in the ribs, and shot him a look. To her surprise, her father laughed – a real, genuinely amused laugh.

"Somethin' like that," he agreed, snorting. "Nah, Jennifer, I just though," he paused, and shrugged, "though I might as well meet the man, you spend enough time up there in Stillwater – seem to be pretty serious about this idiot."

Jenny gave him a blank look, and then knit her brows in feigned innocence.

"Who, Jethro? I don't think we're serious; this is just a teenage fling."

Gibbs nodded, shrugging.

"Yeah, don't really give a damn about her."

Jenny made a face, holding her fork out.

"See, just one of those summer of seventeen things – "

"Jennifer, you are twenty years old," her father groused, obviously not amused by the game.

Jenny opened her mouth in mock surprise.

"Well damn, then what's that make us? Not teenaged?"

"Old," Gibbs grunted.

"Disconcerting," Jenny sighed. "What do we do?"

"Have a baby," Gibbs retorted.

Jenny nodded.

"Logical."

"Both of you – shut up," Jasper snapped, glaring ruthlessly. "'M serious – it's time I met your old man, Jethro."

Gibbs shrugged, and nodded; he was fine with it, he'd already agreed. Jenny was the only one who hadn't been in on any of this. He looked over at Jenny, apprehensive about how she'd react – she was the one who tended to get uncomfortable around anything that seemed to touch on the subject of marriage or engagements – no matter how sure she was that she wanted to be with only him – and parents meeting parents were indicative of aisle and flowers and wedding bells.

Jenny looked bright, though – even relieved.

"Daddy, you'll like Jackson. He thinks Gibbs is a huge idiot, too," she snorted, and then reached for her glass to take a drink. "I felt so bad that he would be alone," she mused, smiling wider. "I spent the whole drive home thinking you were mad, thinking you were aggravated because you thought I was prioritizing Gibbs more and more over you – "

The Colonel shook his head, waving his hand. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully – it was a casual dinner; he didn't want to get mushy or anything.

"I know what you've been doin', Jennifer," he said simply. "I don't have a problem with you makin' sure you have a good rapport with Gibbs' father." He paused, and snorted. "Just hope he doesn't mind me makin' it clear you're the one I like better."

Gibbs laughed, shooting Jasper a look.

"He agrees," he said dryly, and Jenny shoved him, rolling her eyes.

Gibbs' self-deprecating comments about his father bothered her occasionally, but he had steadily improved their relationship and to Jenny, the progress mattered more than the residual bad blood – that would fade eventually.

"Is he just coming for dinner?" Jenny asked.

"Yeah, he's leavin' Stillwater around noon. He's leavin' after Thanksgiving dinner – "

"He shouldn't drive, not late at night, he should – "

"He's not senile."

"No, but that's a hassle – and traveling on Thanksgiving sucks, it's like being alone, he should just stay until you ship back out – and that's just a lot of driving for not much time here – he could sleep here."

The Colonel looked at her warily.

"Where?" he asked. "Put 'im in your room? Where would you sleep?"

"In the bonus room."

The colonel pointed a fork threateningly at Gibbs.

"What about him? His room is the bonus room."

"I'll sleep in the bonus room with him – "

She broke off; her father glared at her balefully.

"I thought we'd at least get through dinner before you found your way to that subject," he said dryly.

Gibbs had decided to be incredibly focused on his food, and the Colonel got up, grabbing two beers from the fridge. He slid one to Gibbs, waving him a go-ahead for it, and then popped his own open.

"He may want to stay in a hotel," Jasper said. "That's Jackson's choice."

"A hotel, but – "

"Jen, they haven't even met," Gibbs pointed out. "Offerin' up your bedroom to my dad is weird."

Jenny grit her teeth – well, that was a good point. She took a deep breath though, and sat back. Gibbs' arm felt comforting around her shoulders, and then she liked her lips, steeling herself.

"I want Gibbs to sleep in my bedroom," she said.

Her father gave her a look.

"Eat dinner," he said neutrally.

"Daddy – "

"Eat your dinner, Jennifer, and participate in lively small talk for the next hour, and then bring that up again."

She frowned a little, but didn't exactly feel discouraged.

"We could just get it over with," she suggested cautiously.

Gibbs gave her a threatening look – he obviously didn't want her to push it – and the Colonel gave her an end-of-conversation look, and cleared his throat. Jenny smiled a little, and looked over at Gibbs.

"So," she said. "Lively small talk," she murmured, and pushed her hair back before reaching for Gibbs' beer to audaciously steal a sip. "I turn twenty-one in five months."

* * *

><p>It was hard to be frustrated when she had Gibbs home – even for the precious short time that she had him – but still, her father's refusal to allow him to sleep in her room did bother her.<p>

It didn't matter that she'd plied him with a glass or two of scotch, lulled him into a casual, lazy conversation with her and Gibbs, and then reminded him that when Gibbs visited her at school, they slept in the same room, and she slept in the same room as him at his apartments when he wasn't deployed, and in Stillwater – still, the Colonel wouldn't budge.

She sat in her window seat while Gibbs got some things together for a shower. She chewed on her lip.

"I just don't want to go to sleep if I have to leave the room your in," she said frankly – and she wasn't saying it to be sappy, or emotional, or poetic; he was only here until Saturday – Saturday morning he flew back to a precarious war zone with no certainties, and she didn't want to waste a second of that time separated.

It might seem silly, but it was how she felt – these deployments were hard, they left her on edge sometimes, she lived with a constant undercurrent of stress – phone calls from Jackson Gibbs or Leon Vance always made her nervous – and while he was home, she felt at peace.

She wanted to hang on to that for every moment she could.

"I'm tempted to go in and tell him we had sex while he was taking lasagna out of the oven – "

"Jesus, Jen, if I'm gonna die young I'd rather do it fightin' for the homeland, not at the hands of – "

"Jethro, don't fucking talk about dying," she snapped quickly.

He sighed, and gave her a mild look, and then shrugged. He was sorry it upset her, but it was a reality he found hard to pretend didn't exist – and besides, the bluntness was how he and his unit – and most Marines – dealt with the crippling fear that sometimes came with stepping off a plane into the desert.

He bent over her and gave her a kiss, running his hand through her hair.

"I'll be out in a minute," he muttered gruffly. He tilted his head at her. "We'll watch a movie or somethin' – I won't go to my _room_," he snorted a little, at the bonus room being his room, "until you're asleep."

Jenny smiled. She nodded, and waved him away, letting him go. She watched him, and as soon as she heard the door shut and the water start running, she got up and went downstairs, tiptoeing to the study.

Her father had his glasses on, and he was working on documents that looked classified – much of the information looked blackened, redacted. She knocked softly on the doorframe.

"You never have to knock, Jennifer," he said simply.

She came in, and she stood in front of his desk – she'd long changed out of her nice outfit and into cozy pajama pants and a loose tank top. She waited for him to look up, and then she looked at him a moment longer.

"I'm not going to change my mind."

"I don't understand," she said immediately – though calmly. "He's home for…don't you think he deserves to sleep in a bed, on a nice mattress? He spends his time on cots, with coarse blankets – "

"Jennifer, 'm not tryin' to punish him – my problem is him usin' you as a mattress," he muttered, half to himself.

Jenny arched an eyebrow, and then shook her head.

"You aren't being rational, Daddy, it doesn't make any sense not to let us – "

"It makes sense to me."

She paused, and took a deep breath. She listened to the water running upstairs, and then she licked her lips.

"Dad," she said carefully; quietly. "You _know_ we've been having sex for two years. I want you to explain to me why you won't let us – "

He put up his hands and then rubbed his temples, sighing hard and making a strained face. He really wasn't sure how he ended up with probably the only daughter in the goddamn world who kept feeling the need to inform him that she was sexually active.

"You grew up in this house, Jennifer. This is your childhood home. I still ...you're still a kid to me, I wish you'd let me maintain this illusion, out of respect for me, just…can you not just tell me you'll sleep in separate rooms and then sneak him into yours when I'm asleep, for my sanity's sake?" he grit his teeth. "I'd rather be able to pretend I don't know what's goin' on than be the one handin' you a permission slip!"

She compressed her lips, almost feeling sorry for him. He looked old for a moment, and she felt less indignant, less frustrated. He looked up sharply.

"I know you told me you sleep together in Stillwater," he added, giving her a piercing look. "But you tell me – honestly, Jennifer – where Jackson Gibbs tells Jethro to sleep."

Jenny opened her mouth to respond quickly and then – well, she closed it, and licked her lips in defeat.

"Above the shop."

"Christ – see?" her father groused. "At least I'm only askin' for a different room on the same floor!"

She laughed a little, and shrugged, folding her arms. She supposed he was right – and he had basically condoned some sneaking around. She pushed her hair back, and nodded.

"Okay," she said softly. "I – okay," she said again.

She took a step back, and then came forward again, walking around the desk and sitting on the edge. He sat back and looked at her curiously.

"Something else, G.I. Jen?" he asked, bemused – because she looked so serious, so grown-up.

She shook her head.

"This means a lot to me, Daddy," she said quietly. "I didn't think I'd get to see him until … February, March, who knows," she broke off, swallowing hard. "This really means a lot," she said again, licking her lips. "I don't…know how to thank you."

He stood up, and kissed the crown of her head, giving her a small, paternal hug.

"'M glad, Jennifer," he said gruffly. He leaned back, and paused, tilting his head at her, hesitating. "He's a good soldier, honey," he said. "Good man."

Jenny smiled, and nodded; she knew that. She was glad her father was so comfortable openly admitting that – openly, it seemed, solidifying Gibbs as part of the family – even if she herself was still not ready to take that step, the one Gibbs had wanted precisely since she was eighteen.

* * *

><p>She struggled to stay awake; it was late, she'd been up all night the night before studying, the drive had been exhausting – but she'd meant it when she said she didn't want to miss a moment.<p>

Gibbs seemed half-asleep himself, leaning up against her headboard. He had his arms wrapped around her tightly, his legs stretched out around hers protectively, and she curled up against his chest, her eyes heavy.

She felt content, light-hearted; for once this semester, since he'd left, not burdened by anything at all. They had watched a movie – and when she'd heard her father get in the shower, she'd locked them in the bonus room upstairs and he'd made good on his promise to take care of her – and even now, she felt torn between a thousand things: did she want to sleep next to him, keep touching him, talk to him – she felt like she had no time, and she felt like the holiday was frozen, at the same time.

He shifted a little, and kissed the top of her head.

"Thinkin' about Noemi's stuffing?" he asked, breaking the silence.

She laughed a little hoarsely, waking up a little.

"Mmm, now I am," she murmured. "I told you, you'd never forget it," she added, trailing off. "Thanksgiving," she said to herself. "Hey – that was the first major holiday we celebrated. Back then."

"Back then?"

"You know, in the stone age. I seem to remember you clubbing me and dragging me into your cave."

"It was two years ago, Jen."

"It feels like a century."

"Long enough to get m—"

"Don't say the M word, Jethro."

"...Macbeth," he said, switching gears obediently.

She laughed at his quick save.

"Macbeth _what_?"

Gibbs just shrugged. It was always Macbeth something with them – and besides, Macbeth was basically their code word for married, since the deal was she got her copy back when she married him.

"You just let me know when you want to read it again," he said in her ear, his hand running over her shoulder gently.

She nodded, feeling that anxious but certain, weird sort of feeling in her stomach – the idea of marriage still scared her, still made her feel young and small, and that was odd, since some other part of her was so reconciled to the fact that she loved, and wanted, Gibbs forever.

Gibbs snorted.

"Nah – wasn't Halloween the first holiday?"

Jenny laughed under her breath, and pinched him.

"Fourth of July, maybe," she mused – the day they'd met.

Gibbs tilted his head back.

"Dad grilled you about your father on that Thanksgiving," Jenny pointed out lazily, her voice tired. "Two years later, they'll be at the same dinner table … none of this makes sense; it's surreal," she said simply.

She turned her head into his chest and shrugged, content with it. It did feel surreal, but she was glad of it. He shifted a little, and got more comfortable, stretching out next to her. His lips brushed her neck, and her ear, and pressed breathed her in, memorizing her over and over again.

"Are you okay over there, Jethro?" she asked in a quiet voice – a non-threatening voice, because she knew – form past experience – that trying to help him deal could get sticky and loud and horrible; there were months after Afghanistan that had not been easy for her to handle.

He nodded, not answering for a long time – she almost thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Just keep writin' to me," he requested, his voice low, and sincere. His lips brushed her hair, and he hugged her a little, trying to find – to imagine – some way to get closer. "It helps."

She moved, and turned onto her side, looking at him intently, her nose inches from his. She leaned forward and kissed him, letting him run his hands through her hair and do that thing where he kept shifting, and get adjusting her to pull her closer.

She knew – he'd made comments, and she knew from the news, from the harrowing reports of the war – that this deployment was worse than Afghanistan, somehow – and somehow, he was handling it better, even if it was rougher, more dangerous, and more grueling.

"You know I'm going to be here for you," she murmured, her head against his heart.

He nodded, falling into silence again.

"Jen," he said, when he sensed how even her breathing was getting. "I got to go –"

She shook her head a little, didn't open her eyes.

"Stay," she said sleepily, and reached for his hand. "Jethro – please just stay. He's just a Colonel. What's the Colonel to the Taliban?"

He wanted to tell remind her that he was in Iraq, not Afghanistan, that he never wanted to talk about the Taliban, he wasn't as hardened as her father – he had lost his taste for joking about things and places like that – but she was half-asleep, and she was right – two years ago, on Thanksgiving, the day when Jasper Shepard had barricaded him in the bonus room with a chair, Gibbs might have said he'd rather face the Taliban – but that would never be true again.

* * *

><p>It was late – late for the Colonel, and late for Gibbs – when Jasper stormed past his daughter's closed door and gave it a knock.<p>

"I'm makin' coffee, Jennifer," he said loudly. He paused. "You two got about six minutes to pretend you didn't ignore my goddamn rules."

Groggy, and in disbelief that it was morning, Jenny sat up – and she was, indeed, tangled up in her sheets and Gibbs, and he was sitting up and shifting away, standing and stretching.

He kissed her good morning and smiled, running a hand through his hair, and indicated he was going to go lay on the bonus room couch, so Jasper could check and pretend his fantasy world still existed.

She stood and caught his hand, kissing him a little harder, a little more aggressively.

"Happy Thanksgiving," she murmured.

He nodded, and said the same back – and when she opened the door and went down the stairs – while he took up his place in the bonus room – she smelled the familiar aroma of Thanksgiving dinner already cooking; Noemi must be here, though Jenny didn't see her right away.

She went into the kitchen to get her mug of coffee.

"Happy Thanksgiving, deviant," muttered her father at her – it was so passive-aggressive, that Jenny laughed, and rolled her eyes.

She went to give him a comforting hug, but the doorbell rang. Her father gave the hallway a look.

"Noemi's got a key," he said. "She just went out to grab some ingredients for whiskey sours."

Jenny put her coffee mug down and sauntered into the hall, getting the door. Gibbs appeared, holding his cell phone in his hands.

"It's dad," he grunted warily, as Jenny opened the door.

"Jackson!" she greeted, smiling widely and reaching out to hug him.

She wrinkled her nose affectionately as he returned a tight hug, thankful – appropriately – that her relationship with him was so good, and she'd been able to forge better bonds with him and Jethro, as well.

"Good to see you, missy," he said warmly, stepping in. He turned to Gibbs. "Hell, good to see you, too, Leroy," he added. He held out his hand, but Gibbs shrugged at it and leaned forward giving him a hug.

Jenny met Jackson's slightly surprised eyes over Gibbs' shoulder, and she smiled, proud of herself – and of Jethro.

The Colonel came into the hall, clearing his throat, and Gibbs gave him a small salute in greeting, forgetting to say anything else.

"Leroy – boy, where are your damn manners, you going to introduce me to your girl's father, or you gonna stand there like a mute idiot who ain't raised with any sense?"

Gibbs sheepishly started to talk, but the Colonel interrupted.

He held out his hand to Jackson Gibbs, smirking.

"We're going to get along," he said dryly. "Jasper Shepard."

"Jackson Gibbs…"

Jenny stepped back, leaning into Gibbs. He put an arm around her waist and smiled a little – still wary, but glad to be with her; and she just smiled a lot still holding on to the momentary peace that came from having him home.

"I hope you don't mind I'm early," Jackson said brightly. "Thought I'd been the traffic."

The Colonel invited Jackson Gibbs, offering coffee – putting a face to the man he'd questioned his daughter's – then relatively new – boyfriend about exactly two years ago.

And when they all sat down to Thanksgiving dinner that evening, Jenny felt – really, intently felt – for the first time like she was appreciating this holiday in exactly the way it was supposed to be appreciated – she was thankful Gibbs was safe, thankful she had a father who cared so much about her – and she was thankful that a little less than two years ago, she'd chased Leroy Jethro Gibbs to the airport, and given him a letter, instead of letting him get away.

* * *

><p><span><em> November 24, 2010<em>

* * *

><p><em>-in these little in between snippets, i kind of try to flesh out how jenny's thinking evolved to the point of where she was at in part two of the epilogue, and like go through the stages of development in their, you know, pretty solid relationship. like obviously at this point, they've discussed marriage, it's still a thing that comes up, but she's 20, she's still like "we need more life first" etc. idk, i hope that's coming agrees.<em>

_anyway, REALLY happy thanksgiving to everyone - in keeping with coming home surprises, that's how i themed this: i'm home in Tennessee for Thanksgiving since my senior year of high school (four years!), and i didn't tell a soul i was coming, so tomorrow, my grandmother will be jenny :) hope your holiday is great (americans!)_

_-Alexandra  
><em>_story#229_

_p.s. - s/o to Blake Shelton for Gibbs' "line." _


End file.
